Collecting Evidence
by sleeplessinatlanta
Summary: Because facial expressions can't say it all. Sometimes, we need that delicious internal monologue! Spoilers for the Goop in the Girl! M for smutty fun! COMPLETE.
1. Maybe

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

All right, I couldn't help myself. :)

**Maybe  
**

* * *

She could have had someone else undress him.

Brennan was too logical not to realize that anyone else could have snapped on a pair of latex gloves and collected the evidence currently residing on her partner's clothes. But why would she have anyone else do that when that … responsibility clearly belonged to her?

I mean, he was _her_ partner.

"Okay … I have to remove your clothing now," she informed him, particularly pleased with the way the words sounded utterly professional. And of course, they were. There was absolutely nothing personal about undressing him, she was just collecting evidence. Though, admittedly, she had never gone about the task quite so eagerly before.

"Why?" he immediately questioned her.

"Well, there may be particulates," she explained, something in the pitch of his voice telling her that he was completely taken aback. But still, there was no resistance when she slid his jacket off. And it was the most intimate thing she could have imagined. She couldn't be sure why, after all, they were in a practically sterile room and there were harsh fluorescent lights and tiny pieces of flesh in petri dishes, but taking off Booth's jacket made something flutter in her stomach that she couldn't quite define.

The mere thought made her hyper aware of the way he looked sitting there. Waiting for her to undress him. Her movements seemed slower as she put the jacket aside and walked around him to take off his tie.

He asked her a question and she gave him a plausible, logical answer but for the life of her, she couldn't explain why taking off that tie seemed like the most important thing in the world. Her gloved hands loosened the tie almost reverently and as she gently slipped it over his head, she informed him there was evidence on the back of his collar.

After setting the tie next to him, Brennan realized the next logical step would be to remove his shirt. For some reason, her throat felt a little dry.

"Okay …" she said, almost inaudibly and it nearly felt like she needed to steel herself as her hands moved to the buttons on his shirt.

When he told her he could do it himself, she surprised herself with the vehemence with which she stopped him.

"No! Don't!" Her hands immediately captured his. "You'll compromise the evidence," she said, not quite as vehemently.

Button after button gave way under her hands as she invited him to her house for Christmas. She felt strangely shy as she extended the invitation, her eyes moving between her task and his face as she gauged his reaction.

"So …" she asked, pushing his fully unbuttoned shirt past his shoulders and circling around. "Will you come?"

"I … don't … know," he answered, explaining about his plan to go to Quebec and see his son. She was surprised by his willingness to irritate Rebecca when she could so easily retaliate by intruding on his own time with Parker. She verbalized her thought as she pulled off his shirt completely and he agreed that retaliation was a likely possibility.

Brennan discarded his shirt and when she turned around her mind went nearly blank as she looked at his bare back. She wondered dazedly if it could possibly feel as firm and smooth as it looked. _My god, he was so incredibly gorgeous_. His skin looked so … _strokable_. For one tiny, reckless second, she imagined placing a soft kiss against his perfect shoulder.

"You have a perfect acromion," she praised, trying to keep the breathlessness out of her voice. She wasn't sure if she'd succeeded because he looked way too pleased with himself.

"Stand up," she ordered briskly, by now realizing that a naked Booth was a dangerous Booth and she had yet to even take off his pants.

"Whoa," Booth was clearly surprised when she knelt in front of him and he asked, "What … what, is there stuff on my pants?"

"Yeah," she explained. "Vascular tissue on your Cocky belt buckle." All right, so she was merely collecting evidence, but it didn't escape Brennan that her position was an extremely suggestive one.

_Suggestive?_ She nearly laughed as she unbuckled his belt. _Dear god, but the only time she was ever in this position was when she was giving a man a blowjob._

"Oh right, slides right off," Booth commented in a strange tone. And damn, but he was right, because she slid his belt flawlessly through the loops with near-obscene relish.

"And we're done." He seemed especially eager to get away from her and she couldn't be sure if he was uncomfortable at his state of undress or at the fact that her on her knees in front of him had to be conjuring up the obvious visual.

"No," she answered quickly. "I have to remove your pants." _Was this getting to him?_ But she was pretty sure she had an answer when he started reciting saints. _All right, so it was getting to him_. But, was it because someone was taking off his pants or because it was _her_ doing it?

Maybe if Cam hadn't interrupted, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself from getting an answer to that question.

Maybe she would have traced her tongue along the exquisitely defined line of his hipbone.

Maybe she would have trailed kisses on his ridiculously perfect abdomen.

Maybe she would have pulled those adorable boxers down and collected all types of delicious evidence with her tongue. Even though she didn't need any evidence to tell her that he would taste so damn good. _She just knew_.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. The word was nearly haunting when you considered the absolute lack of certainty implied by it.

_To hell with maybe_, Brennan decided firmly. Clearly not today, but one day she was going to undress Special Agent Seeley Booth and do a lot more with him than collect evidence.

No maybe about it.


	2. The Next Time

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

**The Next Time  


* * *

**

"… I have to remove your clothing now."

The words slipped from her lips, calmly and oh so casually, and they made his heart skip one beat and then quickly pick up speed.

"Why?" Booth questioned, feeling something suspiciously close to panic.

"Well, there may be particulates," Brennan reasoned, her hands going to his jacket.

"Particulates," he echoed and hoped she couldn't hear the consternation in his voice. But maybe she did, because apparently she felt the need to explain.

"Evidence for Hodgins," she told him in her calm, reasonable voice. "And flesh for Cam."

Of course. This was purely professional, he reminded himself. _So what that the woman he'd been dreaming about for years was taking off his jacket with the express intent of undressing him?_

Okay, those were the kinds of thoughts that could get him in trouble. _Professional, professional, professional_. He chanted the word like a mantra in his head.

"You know, the bomber said something about answering the call," Booth mused aloud, in a firm attempt to maintain some kind of professionalism while she _took off his clothes_. "What do you think that means?"

He actually thought he'd succeeded, until she stood in front of him and Booth realized the only thing he could process was her; taking off his tie in what felt like the most excruciatingly slow way possible.

Her gloved hands gently loosened and began to disengage the tie from underneath his shirt collar and Booth nearly felt dizzy. It registered that she had answered his question and he struggled to get his act together.

"Mm, I don't think he was a terrorist, I just think he was a bank robber." Even to his own ears, the words sounded like a near whisper and he knew that his sentence had trailed off breathlessly as she leaned imperceptibly into him to look more closely at the collar of his shirt. But his partner appeared clueless about the effect her purely professional activities were having on him.

She said something about splatter and he repeated the word dazedly as she removed his tie completely.

Shit, he could _not_ think. Her scent, which he lived in fear of because it always made him want to lean in and take a deep breath, assaulted him mercilessly.

_Why, why?_ Booth wondered ruefully. _Why did she have to be so beautiful and smell so good and be so clueless all at the same time_.

And it did appear that she had no clue what she was doing to him because the maddening woman went to unbutton his shirt without seemingly a second thought.

"Oh, I can take my own shirt …" he offered in a dazed voice which was quickly cut off when Brennan grabbed his hands rather forcefully, informing him that he would be compromising the evidence.

"Right."

_Evidence, she was just collecting evidence._ He tried to ground himself with the reminder but it was freaking useless because all he could think of was how goddamn sexy she looked, standing there in front of him, in her blue lab coat, unbuttoning his pristine white shirt. That's when Booth realized he must have some previously unknown kinky streak because all he could picture was her, sliding her palms sensually over his naked chest, latex gloves and all.

Her head tilted minutely to the side and he mirrored the movement, eyeing her lips as they moved. He licked his own unconsciously, feeling like he could practically taste her. _Jesus, l bet she tastes so outrageously good, _he contemplated without bothering to censor the thought._ I just know she does. _

Her dinner invitation brought him out of his inappropriate internal considerations and he had to smile at her choice of words. Only Bones would use the words "shunted aside" when extending an invite to Christmas dinner.

"That's a sweet invitation," he said wryly, but the warmth that was spreading through him had nothing to do with the way his body had been overheating since the whole delicious ordeal had started.

Still, he had been considering going to Quebec and seeing Parker. He was beyond annoyed that Rebecca had taken him away for Christmas, again. It really wasn't fair, and yeah, life wasn't fair, but goddamn it, he thought they were beyond this by now. He was reluctant to let go of his resentment, but Booth reminded himself that Rebecca had promised him New Year's and an extra day on his next four weekends to make up for it and as Bones had just reminded, she would likely retaliate if he showed up in Canada.

Things had been going fairly smooth lately and it seemed unwise to … _Did she just say he had a perfect what?_

Okay, he had no clue what part of him she'd just complimented, but her voice had that tone he recognized from every time they got to a scene and she found perfectly preserved remains. It was something resembling awe and damn he liked that tone. He especially liked it now, in reference to whatever body part had caught her attention. Booth knew he was smiling, but he couldn't help it; he was certainly hot for her body and definitely wanted her to be hot for his.

He complied distractedly with her order to stand up, but was immediately alarmed when she went to her knees in front of him.

"Whoa," he blurted out. "Wh- what, is there stuff on my pants?"

Apparently there was vascular tissue on his belt buckle. She gave her explanation matter-of-factly, deftly unbuckling the damn thing. _Oh, not good_, he though frantically, _this is not good._

"Oh right," he exhaled, turning his head and trying not to look at her, kneeling right in front of him. "Slides right off." And damn if it didn't, his belt sliding smoothly through the loops as if any resistance to her deft fingers was absolutely unimaginable.

"And we are done," he announced, hoping she would agree, hoping she couldn't really hear the panic in his voice. But when she said no and started unbuttoning his pants, all Booth could hope for was to escape this with his dignity intact.

"All right," he said in what amounted to near desperation. "You know what, I'm just gonna start reciting some saints." And she could draw whatever the heck conclusions she wanted from his little mental exercise.

"St. Joseph, St. Peter, St. Paul …" As her hands hooked on his pants and she started drawing them down, he chanted the names like a talisman against every inappropriate, x-rated thought that was going through his mind.

Jesus Christ, but he wanted his partner to do all kinds of dirty things to him, and right now he wanted her to start by wrapping those beautiful lips around him and sucking him dry.

_God, oh, god, Bones, you are killing me._

Booth wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at Cam's interruption. But he knew one thing for sure: the _next_ time she undressed him, there would be no interruptions and there damn well would be a bed nearby, he would make sure of it.

He nearly shuddered at the thought. If _collecting evidence_ had felt this good, once she actually _touched _him, he would lose his mind. Knowing he had a witness to interview and a crime to solve, Booth allowed himself one final thought before getting it together.

_Oh fuck, baby, we are going to go up in flames._


	3. The Evidence To All I Need

Disclaimer: Sadly, don't own Bones.

In a blatant attempt to make up for the lack of alacrity in updating Breaking and SS, I give you a long, smutty conclusion to this story. Set anytime in the future you want it to be! Hope u like :)

**The Evidence To All I Need  


* * *

**

"Oh, god … Mmm … Bones, oh yeah …" His head fell back against the couch, fully exposing his throat to her hungry lips. She pressed warm, moist kisses against him and it was the spectacularly husky moan he couldn't control that brought him back to his senses.

"Wait, Bones, wait a sec," he gasped, realizing she had slipped off his jacket and was working on his tie.

"Wait?" Brennan looked at him in near horror. "Are you … are you changing your mind?"

"What?" He was deliciously disoriented and it took him a second. "No! _God, no_. Are you?"

"No!" She leaned in to nip at his bottom lip. "Of course not."

"Okay, that's good," he breathed, closing his eyes as she brought one hand down to rub against the front of his pants. _Oh yeah,_ so _fucking good_.

His mind was trying to tell him to focus, but his body was cheerfully disobeying. They had spent the last week playing fast and loose with each other's personal space and it had taken its toll. It'd all started with one innocent kiss after dinner one night, but it had quickly escalated to brushing bodies, groping hands, and _heated_ kisses: against his front door, against hers; in his office and hers; in the FBI elevators and in the goddamn bone room. And now … now, she was devouring him on his couch before he'd even had a chance to blink.

He had left the office late, after a particularly trying interrogation with a suspect who had continually vacillated between cooperation and hostility. But even though it was way past dinner time, he still had to drag_ her_ out of the lab. Booth had promised her dinner and a movie at his place, but the second they walked in she'd made it clear dinner was going to have to wait.

And he was trying to remember something, but she was making it _so damn hard_. When she started working the knot of his tie again, it finally clicked. Grabbing her hips, he raised her off his lap and quickly jumped up from the couch.

"Not so fast, Bones," he panted, grabbing his jacket and putting it back on.

"Booth," she complained, eyes going wide in alarm as he straightened his tie. "Why are you putting clothes back _on_?"

With a wolfish grin and a distinctly predatory gleam in his eyes Booth plucked his partner off the sofa and carried her down the hallway to his bedroom.

"First of all, we need a bed," he explained, kissing her pouty lips as he slammed the bedroom door shut. "And second of all, we are going to try this again."

"Try what again?" she asked in confusion as he set her back on her feet next to the bed.

"Collecting evidence," Booth said wickedly. He realized the second she got it because her eyes raked him up and down and her lips parted on a breathy little sound.

"Undress me," he breathed, placing his hands at her waist and skimming his lips down the side of her neck. "And this time, Dr. Brennan, the only evidence you'll be collecting is evidence on just how much I want you."

"And how much is that, Agent Booth?" she inquired as casually as possible, walking behind him and taking his jacket off. Brennan's skin broke out in goosebumps as she remembered doing this in her lab, how intimate it had felt to slide his jacket off, knowing she was going to be removing everything. It had made her heated before, it damn well made her burn now.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" He watched her go drop his jacket over a chair before moving back to him. Booth inhaled sharply as her hands moved to his tie.

"This is strangely …" Brennan tilted her head in consideration. "…erotic," she finally decided, working the knot loose as slowly as possible.

"You have no freaking clue," he said huskily, actually growing harder as she wrapped the loose ends of the tie around her hands and pulled him close enough to feel her warm breath on his lips.

"Tell me."

"I … It drives me crazy," he confessed, letting his lips graze softly against hers. "After … after I woke up, you know, from the coma … ever since, just thinking of you doing this … oh, hell, it really turns me on, Bones."

"Really?" she asked breathlessly, utterly fascinated with the information. "Why is that?"

Booth held his breath for a second as she slid the tie off, dropping it to the floor before flicking the first shirt button open.

"Because …" He gasped at the feel of her lips exploring the skin she was carefully revealing. "Because, you did it in my dream and I loved it." His fingers tangled loosely in her hair as she spread the shirt fully open and scattered butterfly kisses all over him. "It was intimate and … and hot and it drove me crazy then and it drives me crazy now."

"That's fascinating, Booth," she whispered, sliding the shirt completely off his shoulders and running her hands greedily across his smooth, velvet-over-steel skin. "I'm sure Sweets would have some interesting theories about it."

"Really, Bones?" he asked wryly. "You are bringing up Sweets while you're taking off my clothes?"

Brennan chuckled and stepped close, pressing herself against him and running nipping kisses across one perfect shoulder. "Oh, is that what Angela would term a … mood killer?"

"Yeah, Bones," he answered, using the pads of his fingers to softly massage her scalp. "Lucky for you, it would take a freaking national disaster to kill the mood right now."

"Mmm … god, you really do have perfect muscle definition," Brennan praised, kissing and touching him in near awe. "Perfect muscle definition, perfect skin tone, perfectly strokable skin," she gasped, skating her tongue out to taste. "Just so damn perfect, Booth."

"I … ah … glad to know that when you talk about my perfectly symmetrical whatever, it's not just in scientific detachment," he murmured, head nearly spinning at the reverent way she was nipping and petting his shoulders, his chest, his stomach.

"No, I am most certainly not detached," she replied earnestly, scraping her nails lightly across his abdominals. "I wanted to stroke you all over that day." Hands on his shoulder, Brennan exerted pressure until he turned around and she hugged him from behind, pressing her cheek against his back.

"I didn't think your skin could possibly feel as firm and smooth as it looked," she told him, using her fingertips to caress softly up and down his back. "But it does. God, it really does."

Booth shuddered and turned around quickly, banding his arms around her and burying his face in the sweet-smelling spot between neck and shoulder. He sucked on the delicate skin and hooked his finger on the edge of her soft sweater, raising it up and off in one deft movement. It hit the floor along with his shirt and tie and he smoothed down her hair and exhaled shakily at the view of her lace-covered chest.

"You are perfectly symmetrical too," he breathed hoarsely, captivated by her luminous, pale skin.

"Actually, I'm not," Brennan denied, her voice taking on that scientific tone he recognized so well. "There's a distinct …"

"Oh, Bones," he interrupted on a chuckle, cupping the weight of her breasts in both hands and rubbing his thumbs in a circle over the lace. "Believe me, you really, really are."

She slapped his hands away playfully and informed him, "I'm not done," as she slipped off her sandals and her knees hit the floor, fingers going to work on his Cocky belt buckle.

"Ohh," he hissed, looking up at the ceiling in self-preservation.

"Are you going to start naming deities again?" Brennan asked curiously, smiling in satisfaction at the flawless manner in which the belt slid from the loops, just like she remembered.

"Saints, Bones, Catholic saints," Booth corrected, hazarding a glance down and groaning at the view of her in a skimpy little bra on her knees in front of him.

"Last time, when you started listing them …" Her fingers popped open his pants and slowly trailed the zipper down. "That was because of me, right?"

"Wh-What? Of course, it was because of you, Bones!" he replied in a strained voice. "Who else was in that room with me, taking off my damn pants?"

"All right, all right," she soothed, smiling at his testy tone. "Just checking." With delicious concentration, Brennan lowered his pants and he stepped out of them as well as his shoes. She hooked her fingers on his colorful socks and he raised one foot and then the other to allow her to slip them off.

Booth tensed as she curled her fingers over the elastic of his boxers, but she didn't remove them, seemingly content to just stare at the obvious bulge tenting the fabric.

"Bones?" he choked out in an embarrassingly hoarse voice.

Instead of answering, she pressed her lips right over the edge of his boxers, her teeth catching on the elastic band and pulling on it slightly before releasing it with a tiny snap. Agonizingly slow, she pulled the boxers down a bit, exposing the line of his hipbone and Booth whimpered when he felt her tongue trace the defined indentation.

"You are killing me," Booth groaned, his tortured voice turning to a gasp when she swiftly dragged his underwear down and he landed in her mouth.

"Holy shit!" he half-shouted, half-moaned, planting his feet firmly and involuntarily bucking once into her mouth. "Bones, some warning might have been a good idea … _oh fuck_, oh, damn, baby … _God!_"

She sucked him hard with those perfect lips and he wondered if it was actually possible to pass out from a blow job. _Jesus, that would be embarrassing._

"Stop," he panted, even as his hips insisted on disobeying. "_Stop_, _stop, stop_." Curling his fingers in her hair, he stopped her movements; her tongue swirled around him and he gripped tighter. "Come here."

Brennan gave one final swirl and released him and he gripped her shoulders, hauling her up and crushing his lips against hers. He was practically inhaling her and she moaned into his mouth in appreciation of his excitement.

"My turn," Booth decided, gasping in some air and multitasking deliciously by flicking the clasp of her bra and flinging off the offending piece of lace. "Too many damn clothes on," he panted, working the buttons of her navy blue slacks and lowering them past her ass. Spanning her waist he picked her up and sat her on the bed, peeling the slacks off her and discarding them quickly.

Brennan slid back until she was in the center of the bed and his eyes flashed as he drank her in, flushed and breathing heavy in his bed, wearing nothing but a white pair of panties. His nostrils flared as he hovered over her on the bed, hands braced on either side of her body.

"You are way too beautiful," he decided, skimming his lips across the top of her breasts. She arched into him and he opened his mouth on one straining peak; his name dropping from her lips on a breathy moan.

"Too beautiful," he repeated, releasing her breast and moving down her body with wet, open-mouthed kisses. "And too smart, too stubborn and argumentative and passionate and too fucking perfect."

"I never stood a damn chance," Booth concluded, drawing her little white panties all the way down and diving in between her legs. She tunneled her fingers in his hair to anchor herself as he licked her up and down.

"Oh baby, you taste good," he husked softly, feeling almost intoxicated. "I knew you would, I knew I was going to be addicted to you before I even touched you."

"Booth," she moaned his name, head thrashing side to side on the pillow as he opened her up with two fingers and flicked her clit with his tongue.

"Come for me," he invited seductively, gliding the flat of his tongue along the soaked folds of her sex.

"No." Brennan tugged on his hair and bit her bottom lip trying to hold herself back. "I want to come with you …" Her fingers pulled more forcefully as she pleaded, "Please, I need you inside me."

He was tempted to keep his tongue between her legs and _make_ her come on his mouth. But he could tell she was going to fight it, that she wouldn't just let go, and more than anything he wanted her to let go absolutely.

Kissing his way back up her body, he settled between her thighs, groaning as the hardest part of him pressed against the softest part of her.

"Hey," Booth whispered, brushing her lips lightly, one hand softly caressing her cheek. "Do we need protection?"

"No," Brennan said simply and that was enough for him.

"You know this changes everything," he warned her, hands skimming gently over the slope of her breasts and her stomach, until reaching her waist. Without taking his eyes off her, Booth cupped her rounded hips and raised her slightly, poised to obliterate over five years of self-restraint.

"I know," she agreed, winding her arms around him and keeping her eyes locked on his. "I've always known that."

Lowering his head he claimed her lips and with one deep thrust he claimed her. He kissed her without restraint as he slammed himself into her over and over again. Releasing her hips, he braced his hands on the bed, body driving relentlessly into her pliant flesh. Her legs locked around him, her fingers dug into his back, and her mind simply shut down as he surged into her, all raw power and unleashed passion.

"Booth!" she gasped, breaking their kiss and throwing her head back in reaction to the pressure building inside her.

He rained hot, wet kisses over her exposed throat, feeling increasingly crazed with each pounding slide into her body.

"_Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes_," she chanted the word religiously in a husky, breathless tone that coiled around him and lit every nerve ending on fire. "Booth, it's … it's … I can't … oh god, Booth … I don't … I need …"

"I know," he groaned, feeling like he was buried so deep inside her, there'd be no finding his way out. "_Jesus_, _Bones_ … let go, baby, let go."

Her eyes went blind and she contracted around him, the feeling so exquisitely tight he shouted her name, pumping hard as she shattered. One of her hands moved to twine in his hair and she pulled his lips to her, husky moans spilling into her mouth as he emptied himself inside her in one soul-sucking orgasm.

His hands had fisted the sheets viciously on either side of her body and he didn't even realize it until he collapsed on top of her and his hands slowly relaxed their vicious grip.

_Oh, I was so damn right_.

"About what?" Her still husky voice startled him, making Booth realize he'd whispered the words against her instead of merely thinking them.

On a slight groan he rolled them over so that she was now sprawled on top of him, her hair a curtain around him as she raised her head to look at him.

"About us," Booth answered, gently tucking back her silky hair and holding her face between his hands. "About this, about burning up together … about the reality being even better than the goddamn dream."

"Oh." She felt strangely breathless at his words, the passion she could so easily hear behind them making her feel something Brennan could only classify as elation.

"You know, there are two things from that dream that I think about all the time," he confessed, thumb brushing over her kiss swollen bottom lip. "The tie thing is one of them."

"What's the other one?" Booth smiled at the automatic question.

Sliding his fingers from her cheek to curl around her nape and gently bringing her head down, he whispered against her lips, "Bren."

Her eyes widened at the word. "The name?" she inquired in surprise, fingertips feathering absentmindedly across his collarbone.

"Yeah," he answered with a lopsided grin. "I kinda like it."

"Does that mean you don't want to call me Bones anymore?" Brennan asked hesitantly, not quite certain what to make of this.

"Oh, hell no," he laughed, the carefree sound making her automatically smile in response. "I'll always call you Bones." Smile disappearing, Booth said seriously, "I know you didn't like it at first and I wanted to annoy you, but … it's ours now, right?" He licked dry lips, feeling suddenly nervous. "I mean, you know I … you don't want me to stop, do you?"

"No," she said softly, soothing his uncertainty with a lingering kiss. "I like it, Booth. It _is _ours and I like that even more." She nestled her face against the curve of his neck, smiling as she felt the tension draining out of him. "But, you know, Bren is okay too, if you want. I don't have any objections to it."

"No?" He tunneled one hand into her hair, the other gliding leisurely up and down her back. "Then I want." Booth sighed in satisfaction at the feel of the tiny kisses she was pressing on his skin. "I so want," he whispered. "I want it all."

"All?" she questioned in a soft, soft voice, raising her head from his neck. "I … are you sure?"

"I have all the evidence I need, Bones," he answered, eyes dead serious as they met hers. "But if you need to collect more, that's okay, I'll wait; I really don't care how long, I'll …"

"No," she interrupted in a rush, before taking a deep breath. "I've collected all my evidence as well," she stated in that calm, rational tone that had gone from annoying the shit out of him to freaking turning him on. Booth couldn't quite pinpoint when that particular change had occurred, but it had been years and years ago. The first time he had consciously realized it, that's when he'd known he was in trouble.

"And?"

"And," she informed him in that careful, meticulous tone he had come to adore. "All is quite acceptable."

* * *

_**p.s. I'm aware the incentive to review the last chapter of a story is quite diminished, but I hope that if you have enjoyed this, you let me know what you think of this little conclusion. That's code for: come on, my little lurkers, come out and play! :)**_


End file.
